I was a fool…

Maybe, brave beyond my capacity:

Sharing my pains publicly.

A call for community,

Thinking it would aide,

To motivate my efforts made.

On airways,

In print,

Even the screen,

As if weight loss,

Or home finding,

Equated victory over trauma,

Long envied.

New ways to ignore my truth,

While speaking only pieces,

In hope such silver linings,

Would fuel me beyond,

A flesh imprisoned,

Constant.

———-

Instead it gained a following,

Full of people in rescue mode…

As if they knew enough,

To help me.

Some well studied professionals,

Yet missing pieces of understanding.

As this field of such science,

Is rooted in harmful endeavors,

Given value to abusers work,

Over logically questioning.

________

The othering of basic humanity,

Layers upon me,

As some who read parts of me,

Decide to be judge and jury.

Their internalized ableism,

Now part of my coffin.

As each must share,

Their repressed techniques,

Positively sure,

Of their success,

Even though their health,

Stays impacted.

Sudden heart attacks?

Nay, their zombies rose.

~~~~~~

And so as each new being comes in,

They bring with them,

What the last thinks of my problem.

Abandoning me the moment,

I have natural humanity.

None of these feel acceptance

Needed,

As they do not grant such for self,

Without avoidance compounding

Their pain.

Only I have no more room,

For molding,

Or manipulation.

So when I notice,

I stroll on.

———-

Some feel so entitled,

To play puppeteer,

Have they not noticed,

My life is the reality show,

No one pays for…

Except me!

And without a single reward,

For all my pain paid.

So righteous in their actions,

Compounding my suffering,

They forget they are not perfect,

As they feast on,

My misery.

Nitpicking me,

As vultures do bones.

Claiming strength,

As if they hadn’t found me undead…

Writhing in wounds,

Desperate for connection,

They use to break me further.

If only what does not kill,

Made one stronger:

An old adage,

Fails any who hold it true…

Their bodies revolt,

Yet still they refuse to listen,

Even with knowledge shared,

Of trauma informed care.

~~~~~~~~~

They claim the right to abuse,

Calling it help,

All while their pain passing,

Keeps their demons fed.

But what of me?

The continued concept,

In feigned protections,

As their key words,

Tell me all I need to know,

So that I may go,

Time and time again,

Waiting for anything to surface:

Different.

As these cycles are no longer mine,

But their insistence,

That exposure will cure,

Only simply harassment,

Laced in ableist concepts;

Their need for control,

And to believe they have their own.

_________

They lean on self doubt:

As paranoia accompanies trauma.

Their plans all come shattering,

The moment I believe in myself;

Even if it renders,

No change in their behavior,

My own will be free,

Even if it still leaves me solitary.

There’s nothing that can change,

In environments,

Offering nothing but the same.

Their perfectionism,

Is insatiable,

And my identity for me to make.

What I know,

Is that I am their joke told,

Undervalued and dismissed,

As they persist in avoidance,

While I choose to care about those,

That can see my value.